


The Quest for Albion

by Holly_and_Ivy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Merlin (TV)
Genre: AU?, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Converging worlds, Gen, Harry and Draco are roommates, OC characters, and they were ROOMMATES, or are they?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:46:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22828150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Holly_and_Ivy/pseuds/Holly_and_Ivy
Summary: A converging worlds AU.Merlin must set into motion the events that will piece together Albion; he must find the once and future king, and this time there will be zero secrets......Which is a problem for the Statute of Secrecy. Merlin needs to promote unity between the Wizarding and the Muggle world, and he has the power to do it. But is Harry Potter, the auror tasked with figuring this strange situation out, up to the task?the world's will never be the same again.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter & Ron Weasley, Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Things will be revealed as we go along. This is my prologue, and for the most part I know where i want to go plot wise. I don't know i any ships will take centre stage, or if there will be any at all. But, I want this to be a fun romp for us all :)

_Prologue_

It was still early, the sun just peeking behind the tall buildings of London’s downtown. It was promising to be a warm day, the humidity already rising to uncomfortable levels, but in the shade of the buildings it was cool. Despite the oncoming heat, a man stood perfectly still the middle of Trafalgar Square. To a quick onlooker, it might seem as though he were praying, and then they would see the heavy black robes with the hood up and shudder. It was much too hot already to wearing such a woolen contraption.

The man continued to stand, waiting in the very center of the square. This would only work if he had an audience. The early morning rush would come soon, but he was tired of waiting. His nerve was loose, and he feared that if he didn’t do it soon, he never would; that he would run. He had to hold on for another ten minutes, and then the plan would be set into motion.

The world would never be the same again. He would finally fix what had been sorely broken for two thousand years. The world needed to heal. He needed to do this.

As more people travelled past and through Trafalgar Square on their way to work or school or other various commitments, the man thanked the passage of time. Today was the perfect time to do this, compared to ten years ago. Almost every muggle had a fast form of communication that the wizarding world just didn’t. He was glad that every muggle would see this. He knew not all would believe it, but only the ones that did mattered right now.

As the sun tipped over the tops of buildings, bathing the square in full light, the man knew that he had waited long enough.

The man pushed back his hood, revealing a pale man with dark hair. He withdrew Excalibur from his robes, raising it high above his head. Not too long ago he had found the sword. Despite the years it had spent hidden in the Lake of Avalon, it was in perfect condition. It was as beautiful as he remembered it to be.

As the chanting began, people began to stop and stare. But the man did not stop.

_May he who is kind and brave find the path to Excalibur, may he fulfill the duty that once was gifted to him. Only he who is the Once and Future King may wield Excalibur and unite the world of Albion once more._

He said this of course, in the old language. A language he himself barely understood, but the words slipped out smoothly. It was strange, to have a second nature you knew nothing about.

The blade of Excalibur shone in golden light, drawing every last remaining person’s eyes to the source. It was beautiful, and when asked later on, many people would say that thy saw strange but welcome visions while they stared into that golden light. Dear family they missed, or their lost childhood pet. The man saw someone too, and it took all his strength not to drop the sword and run to him. His golden King.

The man spoke, voice clear and echoing. “Hear me; listen to the words I speak. May any who wish to challenge the name of Pendragon come forth by Midwinter. Pull forth from the stone the sword, prove yourself the Once and Future King.

Only he who is strong of heart and will, Merciful to the big and small, and see the world with just eyes can call forth the throne of Camelot.” The voice travelled to everyone in the square. It did not matter where to anyone that they had been rushing to a destination only seconds ago. As this man spoke, they listened.

The man thrust the sword toward the ground, a large boulder like figure appearing beneath. Excalibur slipped into the stone as though it were nothing more than liquid. The light shone brighter than the sun sweltering overhead. A plaque appeared beneath the stone inscribing what he had said in gold. The task was done, and the man felt light.

Excalibur was ready.

_Crack_

_Crack_

They were later than he had been expecting.

From out of seemingly nowhere, two people in black robes converged towards the center of the square where the man stood calmly, not a hint of unease present on his face. They weaved through the crowd, but before they could cast a spell, or even tackle him to the ground, with a motion of his hand and a flare of golden eyes, they were thrown backwards into the crowd. A few people screamed, but many were too shocked to do anything but stare.

A few people helped the other robed people to their feet. The man noted that many other people had their phones at the ready. He smiled. For now, his work was done.

He turned to the crowd once more, allowing his voice to echo over the square. “The time of separation is over. Long live Albion.”

And with that, Merlin slipped away.

****

Harry Potter had been having a good day. He had the morning shift off and so woke up late. Despite the oncoming heat of the day, Harry felt cool. All in all, it was very good feeling to have when first waking up. He had no deadlines, no impending disaster on his heels, and he had no one he needed to answer to (at least for a few more hours).

Harry cooked breakfast for himself in his shared flat. His roommate had left the flat hours ago, leaving quite a nice note about the orange juice he had left behind for Harry. The flat was also even cleaner than it had been the night before, and Harry wondered of Draco had cleaned before he left for work at the ministry.

The quiet of the morning accompanied by his breakfast made for a happy Harry. It almost made him want to call in sick, so he could head back to bed…

Just then the fire place burst into green flames.

Harry didn’t even sigh in resignation.

“Yes Ron?”

“Harry, you have to come in. This is the biggest thing we’ve seen yet.”


	2. The Archives and a Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We all know where this is going, so I almost don't see a reason to hide names. But regardless, it would be weird to name someone that name in the modern day...
> 
> But it is the wizarding world, so maybe not that weird? Oh well, I already wrote the name.
> 
> Anyways, I hope that you enjoy the chapter despite it being short. I cannot remember what I originally had planned for the story as it has been a few months, but I will endeavour to create a cohesive plot where all of the character are, well, in character.

For Mera Smith, this day would go down as one of the most exhilarating days of her life. The whirlwind at the ministry was enough for anyone to get overwhelmed, and while Mera normally would, that day she thrived on it. Elbowing through the mass of Wizarding bureaucracy was almost empowering as she raced to an unobstructed section of the ministry; the archives.

The chaos inside was unprecedented and the noise was like nothing Mera had heard before. Her hands jerked in response to it, begging her to cover her ears, but Mera kept them firmly by her sides and found herself wiggling between two ministry officials who were nervously clutching the latest edition of the Daily Prophet, which had only been in print for a few minutes. They were loudly discussing the events as though they had been there, but with their brightly coloured robes, Mera doubted that that would be true. Or at least hoped. Not that she was one to judge, her own robes as bright as the wizards she passed, but she had the common sense not to parade in Muggle London.

Now, Mera did not work for the ministry. Instead, she was attempting to reach the library that the ministry held. While there were others Mera could have checked out, the one attached to the ministry was well known for the collections it held. It also held archives that were not available to the public. This was where Mera was attempting to go.

In all the kerfuffle, Mera found herself neglecting the guest station and not receiving a visitor pass. No, her sole mission was to make it too the library without being questioned along the way. This was an easy task in the all of the chaos, and she passed undetected.

While finding the archival/library department had been significantly harder than passing through, Mera finally found what she had been looking for after getting lost in a few unending corridors. She had outside the giant stone doors only once before about a year ago, but never had she managed to find a reason to pass inside. Mera, who had studied at Hogwarts a few years prior was now studying under an older fellow named Jeffrey Monmouth who knew more about the history of the magic world, heck, the world in general, Mera was glad to be able to learn from him.

However, this was not any official position in any capacity, meaning Mera had no credentials, no support, and most importantly in her own opinion, no real job. Instead she worked as a cleaner in the Leaky Cauldron, not exactly the place she had thought she’d end up. Standing outside the doors of the ministry library, Mera thought about her hope that one day she herself would work in the archival station.

But, now was not the time for hopes and dreams, but instead for facts. Mera pushed open one stone door and walked inside the dungeon like archives. There was little light, which would be good for sensitive pieces, but it was immediately counterbalanced by the dampness in the air, which could not have been good for papers. Or people for that matter. _No wonder the archives are so closed off_ , she thought to herself.

The problem of no credentials once again became a problem for the young woman who knew she would have to be convincing and gracious to gain access. With her best foot forward Mera walked toward the singular man behind a desk. She greeted him with a _Good afternoon_ , to which he responded,

“You, who are you exactly?”

Mera, turned on her smile and grace for the crabby man, “Oh, my name is Meredith… Meredith, Smith, sir.” Mera held out her hand to the man standing before her, old, bent, and rather severe looking she worried of her first impression.

“And what business do you have here Miss Meredith Smith? Do you have any permission from the archival committee to be here?” his voice came out as a series of croaks.

Here was Mera’s opportunity to be convincing and began her explanation. “I had heard of the business down in muggle London, as I am sure everyone must have by now. However, I felt it wise to check the public archives, I am involved in magic history, and thought that this _Arthurian_ inspired tale may have some truth to it. While it may seem absurd, it seems like a course of action that should be taken,” She took a breath and used it as a chance to gauge the old man’s reaction. He did not seem to have shifted in the course of her explanation, which worried Mera. She continued, “Such magic as that we all witnessed is unheard of in these times, it being raw and untrained. How could any normal wizard have performed like that, eyes blazing and disappearing without more than a cough?

“Anyways, I was hoping that you would… allow me to take notes on archival material here within. I wouldn’t ask to take any of it with me, but I must see these archives to strengthen my hypothesis.”

“Must? What is it you are insinuating?” the old man asked, annoyed by the young woman trying to weasel her way into his archives. “If it is that this has something to do with the real Merlin, who may I remind you was a student of our early societies, then I must insist you are incorrect. I must also insist upon your removal.”

“That is the issue, sir. Merlin appears earlier in our history than even the construction of our societies first established school. Even a muggle children’s story could tell us that. The story that all children know, magic and muggle alike hint at Merlin appearing centuries before then, and while it has been exceedingly difficult to pinpoint the existence of anyone baring the name Arthur Pendragon, the characters that are suspects of this identity are only ever alive before the ministry of magic, and far before the existence of Hogwarts.”

“Ridiculous,” The man scoffed, “besides, what does any of this…this… _speculation_ really matter to the events of today?”

“That is what I intend to find out, if you allow me.” She smiled brighter.

The man narrowed his eyes and peered over his long nose as the woman smiled convincingly at him, trying to gain his favour. “Yes, what indeed,” he murmured to himself. He considered for a moment, and Mera waited eagerly worried she would be sent away. However, the man after deliberating for a few moments of the damage one person could really do, sighed rolling his eyes before he opened up the rope to allow the young woman in.

Over the course of two hours Mera had pulled out a majority of the history books covering the days of ancient magic. A thrill coursed through her thinking of the times, where the magic was wild. The unkempt wild of medieval Britain and its magic was a subject that had pulled Mera into the study of magical history in the first place and had enthralled her even as a child growing up in muggle England. There were even accounts of muggles (not then called) who learned the ways of magic. Mera wondered at the mystery of what had happened to change that. Now was not the time unfortunately, and Mira focused on the work set out for her.

This was much more difficult than she had hoped. The question the old man had asked earlier kept echoing through her head, _what does this matter anyways_ she found herself repeating. While she had no legitimate answer, there was something in her that knew it was important. In any case, if she could prove that the man had been using the magic of _the old religion_ (she had found it called in several books) then it would at least help discover a motive. Perhaps the man was some sort of magical anarchist, or a strange follower of this old religion. As for whether this had anything to do with the real Merlin or if there was even truth to the tale of King Arthur, Mera couldn’t say yet.

But she couldn’t pretend that this research wasn’t also to satiate her own desires. Mera pushed that aside and continued taking notes. She would compare her notes to the news cast that would surely be on muggle television that night. That was one advantage to living between the two societies it would seem.

After another hour, it was clear that Mera was not done and that the old archive keeper wanted her out. It was getting late and he would need to re-sort all of the volumes she had taken off of the shelves. However, seeing how intently she was working kept him from sending her of coldly. To Mera’s surprise the man conceded to let her come back the next day and continue her studies. Mera happily thanked him and left quickly, afraid he would revoke his offer if she kept annoying him.

The man decided to keep the books and archives down on a cart for the young woman, as it was clear she was not done using them. In fact, perhaps he would collect a few more volumes of interest, it wasn’t as though he had many others coming into this section of the library.

She had left her notebook behind, and while he scoffed at her for being careless, as he flipped through the messily written in book he began to wonder.

Could she have a point?

_Tap tap tap_

Mera opened her eyes slowly, scowling at the noise that had woken her. She looked around her blackened room and then at the window and saw nothing. Likely it had been a stray tree branch hitting a window. Mera rolled her eyes and settled back into the comfort of her bed once more. She had just begun drifting back into sleep when,

_Tap tap tap_

This time louder than before. Mera, unsettled but not enough to look around again for fear of seeming silly just bunched the covers up around her neck. She would fall asleep again.

_Tap tap tap_

While Mera dreaded opening her eyes to the darkness, a strange flickering motion began to dance from behind her eyes. This made Mera jump up quickly, unsure where such a light could be coming from in her previously dark bedroom. It did not take long to find the source of the light. Mera’s heart beat a bit faster as she saw a small flickering candle sat in front of her mirror.

Mera’s first instinct was to put out the candle by uttering the extinguishing charm, but the candle only flickered aggressively back at her. Fearful of the dark, but more fearful of letting the mysterious candle burn, she quickly slipped from beneath her sheets to turn it out, padding barefoot across the room. As she approached her began to speed up quickly, and her legs began to feel heavy, unwilling to bring her any closer to the edge of the mirror table. Eyes prickled from behind her, and Mera turned round and round looking for something out of place to ease her mind that all was okay. The overwhelming sense of dread however, just like the candle, was not so easily extinguished.

She longed to reach out her hand and turn the candle out, so she could run back to the comfort of her sheets like a child turning out the lights in a basement. But like her legs, a feeling had cemented its way into Mera’s arms leaving her to stare at her reflection illuminated by the warm candle.

Meredith stared into the mirror but did not understand what she saw there before her. While her face had appeared in the mirror before, not there was nothing despite looking directly into the smooth glass. Terror gripped her, but only got worse as a figure began to emerge from the darkness. Once again, it was her own face, but… changed. Rather than her own pointed and good-natured face, it was instead a one that was much like her own however crazed. She was pale and gaunt, and a burning rage emanated from the golden eyes that replaced Mira’s own green ones. It was as though Mera was seeing herself through a strange lens, or a carnival mirror meant to scare young children. Despite the inherent terror of looking into a mirror and not seeing a reflection, Mira wished for the figure to fade back into the darkness from which it had been summoned.

Mera despite all the dread she felt could not make her limbs move, and nor could she take her eyes off of the grotesque vision in the mirror. A strangled cry came from her own throat, and the eyes Mera had felt before on the back of her neck were back, making her skin crawl.

The vision in the mirror lunged forward just as something grabbed her arm from behind, pushing terrifyingly familiar images through her mind. Though the images were clear, through the terror Mera felt not one of them stuck long enough for her to grasp onto. The candle became incredibly bright, before it went out, and Mera collapsed to the ground.

When eventually Mera woke, she was no longer on the ground. Instead she was in her bed, wrapped up in the blankets the way she had when she had initially gone to sleep the night before. Unspinning from the covers, Mera glanced nervously over at the mirror, now in full illumination from the sun and its surface was beaming the sun’s rays directly into her face. There wasn’t even a candle on the surface of the table.

This all made sense, Mera did not keep candles in her house after the events that had taken her good father as a girl. She sat on the edge of her bed gripping the cool sheets between her fingers. What she had seen the night before was something she had never seen before, her dreams never being so vivid, so real.

She reflected on the reflection in the mirror and would have continued longer had she not looked up at the alarm clock on her nightstand. A new wave of terror washed over Mera, but now because she was late to her meeting with the man from the library and had not been able to compare her notes adequately to the news cast from the night before. She had however taped it, and would check again that night

She prepared in a hurry and left her flat without another thought of the dream from the night before. She locked her door and went on with her day.

Unfortunately for Mera, the visions would not be so easily written off.

_Tap tap tap_


End file.
